


#invisible #broken

by scarletmanuka



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Post-TFP, Sibling Incest, Tweeting, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11753061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: Mycroft becomes concerned over tweets Sherlock is posting and goes to investigate





	#invisible #broken

The silence of the Diogenes Club was a much needed respite after Mycroft’s foray at Sherrinford. He didn’t want to admit it but the whole encounter had put him on edge and his nerves were frayed. He sat sipping a whiskey, the newspaper sitting unread on his lap, and he gazed into nothingness, his mind an irregular whir of emotion and chaotic thoughts. 

He was pulled from his reverie by his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out, already deciding that if it wasn’t a matter of national crisis, he would ignore it and allow Anthea to deal with it. Having a day off after the horrors of yesterday wasn’t much to ask, was it? He swiped the screen open and saw it was a an alert that his brother had sent a tweet. He hit the notification and opened the app.

**Sherlock Holmes** @sherlockholmes 2mins - Today may be a good day to die but it wasn’t for me #closecall #yolo

Mycroft’s brows rose as he read the tweet, still unsure as to why his brother bothered with the whole Twitter thing in the first place. The younger man used to avoid social interactions like the plague, even after he met Doctor Watson. His time away chasing down Moriarty’s web had seemed to change him, almost three years of enforced isolation had made him crave those connections more. Still...social media? It seemed extreme for the genius detective. But perhaps it was just another sign of the distance that had grown between the two brothers. They’d once been so close but then his brother’s drug habit and Mycroft’s job with the Secret Service had erected an impenetrable wall between them. Mycroft couldn’t even say for certain that he  _ knew _ Sherlock anymore.

He put his phone away but a few minutes later it buzzed again.

**Sherlock Holmes** @sherlockholmes 1min - How often can you come close to losing the most important person in your life before you crack? #priorities #unbearable

Then, before he’d even finished reading it came another.

**Sherlock Holmes** @sherlockholmes Just Now - Not that he would notice the cracks #invisible #broken

A wave of concern washed over Mycroft. He knew that John Watson was Sherlock’s best friend but it seemed he was so much more to his brother. The diplomat had always read the ex-army doctor as being a strident hetrosexual and the fact that he could never be anything more than a friend to Sherlock was obviously upsetting his brother. Why though was he pouring his heart out on such a public forum? That was most uncharacteristic of the genius.

His phone buzzed again.

**Sherlock Holmes** @sherlockholmes Just Now - It never hurt like this when I was dead #whatsthepoint

Mycroft immediately sent a text to his driver and by the time he was exiting the building the black town car was waiting for him. “Baker Street please, Joseph,” he said as he slid into the seat. “And as quickly as you can.” Though 221B has been destroyed, Mrs Hudson’s ground floor flat, 221A had escaped relatively unscathed. The elderly landlady had offered her spare room to Sherlock and so he was staying there until the upper floor was repaired.

The driver nodded, stepping on the gas, over the years having gotten used to hurrying the older brother to bail the younger from trouble. 

Another tweet appeared on his screen and Mycroft felt his heart clench at the pain Sherlock must be going through.

**Sherlock Holmes** @sherlockholmes Just Now - Is this what being lonely feels like? #canthavewhatIwant

He had seen Sherlock go through times of bleak depression over the years, both mentally and also due to a chemical withdrawal, but this seemed different to those. More morose. Perhaps the rediscovery of those hidden childhood memories was having more of an impact than anyone could have guessed? He took note of his surroundings, calculating they were no more than a handful of minutes from his brother’s flat (he would need to buy Joseph a bottle of his favourite scotch for his efforts fighting the traffic) and decided against sending a text since by the time it arrived, so would have he.

Mycroft unbuckled his belt as they turned onto Baker Street, ready to leap from the vehicle as soon as they came to a stop. “I’m unsure as to when I’ll be ready, Joseph so please take the rest of the night off and I’ll phone the on call service when I need a car.”

“Of course, sir.”

They came to a halt and the diplomat was out of the car, hurrying across the footpath to the front door, key already in hand. He ripped open the door, not even bothering to straighten the knocker and then strode past the staircase, heading for the rear door. When he reached it he gave a cursory knock on the door to the flat and then let himself in, not bothering to wait to be invited and hoping he wouldn’t scare Mrs Hudson. She had seemed to soften a little after his part in saving her from the explosion, but they still weren’t on the best of terms.  

Sherlock was in the sitting room, laying on the couch and staring blankly at the ceiling. There was an empty liquor bottle lying on the floor next to him, and when he glanced over and saw Mycroft, he sat up, wobbling slightly. “Brother,” he said, his voice slurring. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Mycroft crossed to the couch and leaned down to pick up the bottle. “Blue Curacao, Sherlock? Really? Isn’t that scraping the bottom of the barrel even for you?”

His brother gave him a wide grin, showing blue stained teeth. “Needs must, dear. Mrs Hudson does like her cocktails.”

He noticed of course - the second time his brother had used that particular endearment in the past two days. He’d assumed the first was due to stress, but now he’d used it again. Was it the sudden need to fix the rift that had grown between them? Or was it just a meaningless slip of the tongue? That was something he could ponder at a later date - for now he had more important matters to attend to. He settled himself down next to his brother. “And does Mrs Hudson know you’re depleting her supply of ingredients?”

“She went out to have dinner with her sister. I’ll tell her when she gets back.”

He nodded. “I see you’re trying your hand at drunk tweeting - do you think that’s going to end well?”

Sherlock shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “That’s Future Me’s problem.”

“Very philosophical. I’m sure Future You will be very appreciative of that.”

He didn't answer and Mycroft sighed. “I would have thought you’d be staying with Doctor Watson while the flat was being rebuilt. I must say I was surprised when I heard you were staying here.”

His brother shrugged again. “I didn’t want to be so far from home.”

“Sherlock, is there anything you wish to talk about? I know we’ve not always been there for one another, but I am here if you need. I hope you know that.”

The younger man looked at him in confusion. “Why would you say that? You’ve  _ always _ been there to clean up my messes and pull me out of trouble.”

He trod carefully. “I know you’ve found me to be overbearing at times - I just hope that you realise that I don’t just mean that I’ll bail you out of prison or pull you out of a crack den. If you need to talk about anything... _ personal _ , I’m happy to help if I can.”

He expected Sherlock to scoff and tell him to fuck off in all honesty. Instead, his brother slumped down against the back of the couch and covered his face with his hands. “There’s nothing you can do. It’s hopeless.”

“Nothing is ever truly hopeless.”

“But it is!” he exclaimed, pulling his hands away to look at him, his eyes full of anguish. 

“Is it to do with feelings of yours not being requited?” he asked carefully.

Sherlock huffed. “If I say yes, you’ll do what everyone else does and jump to the conclusion that it’s John.”

That pulled Mycroft up short. “Oh. It’s not?”

“Urgh, how can everyone be so stupid?” His voice dropped to a pained whisper. “How can  _ I _ be so stupid?”

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me more, Sherlock.”

“But I can’t! And it would never work anyway - he doesn’t want me in that way.”

“Are you absolutely sure? You’ve never been the best at reading those sorts of cues.” His mind was busy running through the likely list of candidates, with Detective Inspector Lestrade coming out as the most likely. He’d have put the probability of the silver haired man reciprocating as fairly high.

“I’m one hundred percent certain. It doesn’t matter, Mycroft. You can’t help me. No one can.” He huffed out a breath and stood on shaky legs. “I need another drink. I saw a bottle of Midori in the cupboard - do you want one?”

Mycroft stood and lay his hands on Sherlock’s chest, gently pushing him back down onto the couch. “You’ll make yourself sick if you have anything else. I’ll get you some water.” He headed into the kitchen and while filling a glass, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out with a frown and then shook his head in exasperation.

**Sherlock Holmes** @sherlockholmes Just Now - The British Government refuses to have a drink with me #typical #onewonthurt

He went back into the sitting room and glared at his brother who had reverted back to his horizontal position on the couch. “Must you be so childish?” he asked, handing over the glass.

Sherlock proved that yes, he must be, as he tried to take a sip of the glass whilst lying down and spilled water all over his front. “Oops,” he said vaguely.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Mycroft took the glass from his hands and placed it on the coffee table and then went into the kitchen to get a cloth. His phone buzzed again and he swallowed back a curse.

**Sherlock Holmes** @sherlockholmes Just Now - Big Brother is watching me. Hi Bro! #siblings 

“Sherlock!” he yelled from the kitchen as he rummaged through a drawer looking for a clean teatowel. “Stop bloody tweeting about me!”

His phone vibrated again. 

**Sherlock Holmes** @sherlockholmes Just Now - Sorry, Mycroft #sorrynotsorry #annoyinglittlebrother

He stormed back into the sitting room. “Stop that! Give that to me now.” He grabbed for the phone but Sherlock held it out of his way. He clawed at his brother’s hands, trying to grab it. “Give it to me, Sherlock. Right now!”

“No, you can’t have it!”

They grappled even more, Sherlock twisting and wriggling on the couch trying to evade the deft hands of his older brother.

“You’re drunk and you’ll regret these silly tweets in the morning. Just hand it over,” Mycroft pleaded.

“No, you can’t tell me what to do!”

“I bloody well can! Give it to me.”

“No.”

“Sherlock!”

“If you want it, take it.”

Their wrestling intensified and suddenly they toppled off the couch and landed heavily on the floor with a thud. Mycroft’s head smacked on the ground and the flailing limbs of his brother dug into his ribs and stomach as Sherlock landed on top of him. “Ow,” he whined softly.

“Are you okay?” Sherlock demanded, a note of worry in his voice and his phone lying forgotten next to him.

“I’m sure I will be.”

Mycroft suddenly noticed how close Sherlock was to him, those glorious blue-green eyes of his only inches away. And then his brother was dipping his head and his lips were brushing Mycroft’s. “Sherlock? What?” he stuttered after his brother had pulled away.

“Sorry.” It was said in the barest of whispers. “I just needed to do it, just once. Just to know what it was like.”

“I don’t understand…” Perhaps he  _ did _ have a head injury.

“It’s you, Mycroft - it’s always been you, not John. Now can you see? Why I know my feelings will never be returned?” He looked so broken and dejected that it tore at Mycroft’s heart.

He took a moment to think, analysing the way he felt. He’d never even given it a moment’s thought before but now that he was forced to, well, he wasn’t repulsed by the idea. In fact, the kiss had been nice. And the weight of Sherlock above him was comforting. Mycroft was the first to admit that his brother was striking, but it had always been his mind that had amazed him. Would it really be the worst thing in the world if they gave this a go?

“Perhaps,” he said slowly, “we could try that again.”

“Try what again?”

“The kiss.” He felt himself blushing. “And then maybe we could try being together.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, his voice croaking.

Mycroft smiled at him and reached up to gently touch his face. “Really. It might take me awhile to get used to the idea, but I would like to try.”

Sherlock leaned down and kissed him again and this time Mycroft returned it. It was sweet, and chaste, but there was a passion to it that took both of them by surprise. 

“Perhaps we should go to my room so we can talk?” Sherlock suggested. “I doubt Mrs Hudson would want to come home to find us snogging on her sitting room floor.”

“I believe that’s a wonderful suggestion.

Sherlock clambered off his brother and reached down to give him a hand to his feet. Hands clasped firmly together, the brothers made their way to the bedroom and shut the door.

 

Four hours later, Sherlock tweeted again.

**Sherlock Holmes** @sherlockholmes Just Now - Sometimes you do get what you want #whole #loved 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you adore Mylock but find you don't have anyone in real life who won't judge you for it, why not join our FB group? It's one of those 'secret' affairs so no one can see you're a member, and we spend our time sharing pics of our boys, fic recs, our own fanart and stories, and just generally swooning over the brothers. It's very friendly and accepting, with people from all over the world. If you'd like to join, drop me an email at scarletmanuka1@gmail.com and I'll send you an email invite to the group. If the address you email me from isn't the one you use for FB, just make sure you include it in the email so I use the right one for the invite.


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